


To Have and To Hold

by Shay_Moonsilk



Series: Kingdom of Hell [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lilith does not like Movie!Crowley, M/M, Pregnancy, Pregnant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Prince Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ruler of Hell Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:21:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22280221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk
Summary: Prince Crowley and Prince Consort Aziraphale have been living in Hell and building a life together. But one night, as Aziraphale sleeps, Crowley notices him overcome by a nightmare. Will he be able to save his love, or has Aziraphale fallen victim to the monsters in his dreams?The Prompt: I was frustrated by the Movie Script, and needed to write a response.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Kingdom of Hell [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1446436
Comments: 72
Kudos: 246





	To Have and To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So I tried to read the movie script for Good Omens, and it was just so so so so awful that I could NOT read it and it just made me so upset. I needed to see my Prince Crowley punch that awful Crowley so... this. 
> 
> This story takes place during the events of "Angel's Guide to Hell," but if you haven't read that, all you need to know is that Crowley is a Prince of Hell. Queen Lilith, married to Satan, had the ability to bless Aziraphale and Crowley with having a baby so there are mentions of Aziraphale being pregnant, though nothing explicit.

Crowley was a staunch believer in work-life balance. When the Demonic Court ended everyday, he left his work behind him. But with Hell actively at war with Heaven, Lucifer had everyone in the inner circle working overtime. They were also short Dagon’s help, because Gabriel had her under mind-control. Ironically, the best demon to find her  _ would  _ have been Dagon herself, so everyone was pulling their weight. Even Hastur was no longer complaining about the usual leak in his office.

It was why Crowley was reviewing reports from where he sat in the bed he shared with Aziraphale. The angel had fallen asleep hours ago, literally tipping over in exhaust when his eyes would no longer stay open. Crowley had merely raised the blankets, and told Aziraphale to just  _ sleep _ . Work would still be there the next day. Besides, Aziraphale was going to hold Court with Beelzebub early the next day while Crowley went Up Stairs to patrol for leads with Hastur, he didn’t need rest the same way Aziraphale did. Being in Hell had strengthened his powers, while it had an adverse affect on his love. 

That would hopefully soon change, once their little miracle was born. It was still very early, Aziraphale’s stomach didn’t even have a bump yet. But soon - hopefully very soon - they would start to see evidence of Lilith’s blessing. 

Having these distracted thoughts meant that Crowley kept glancing from the report in front of him to Aziraphale, taking in his angel’s face, and then stomach with a fair amount of love and pride. Which was when he saw it. 

Aziraphale’s face  _ twitched _ . 

Then his face twitched  _ again _ , with a wincing frown.

_ Rarely _ had Aziraphale ever dreamed - Crowley believed he could count the exact number of times in their over six thousand years of knowing each other on two hands the number of times Aziraphale had a dream. This was also because, until they made Hell their permanent home, Aziraphale had rarely slept at all. But the point was still there. Aziraphale did not usually dream. Let alone have a nightmare, which this undoubtedly was. 

His face twitched with displeasure again, and Crowley narrowed his eyes. He gently reached over with a hand, nestling it in his curls. 

“You’re going to dream about what you like best,” He ordered gently. Persuasion was a more Angelic power, it was something Aziraphale had used back in the former hospital when they had been looking for the errant antichrist, but Crowley’s words carried weight. People, demons, and plants knew better than not to listen to him when he gave a command. 

But Aziraphale’s face twitched again, and Crowley should have known. Aziraphale never listened to him. 

“You should not be having a nightmare,” Crowley said sternly, but Aziraphale was asleep and did not reply. The prince sighed. 

Even when he had lived Up Stairs, on Earth, full time, he had been particularly adept at moving in the spaces between the atoms. Having lived in Hell this whole time, it was easier than usual to place a palm back on Aziraphale’s forehead, and concentrate. He could feel his atoms breaking apart and flew into his husband’s head. 

Whatever nightmare that was hurting his beloved, it had no chance against Crowley. 

\----

Aziraphale could feel his eyes brim with tears. Crowley was glaring at him fiercely. That horrible anxiety feeling was back, and it was stronger than ever. The angel felt that dreaded heat that consumed his body, concentrating uncomfortably in his belly, his arms, the back of his neck. 

“I’m not helping you,” Crowley was snarling, “This is my only chance to get out!”

Crowley hated the earth. He hated the humans, the food, the planet. All of it - he always had. 

Aziraphale pleaded with him, “We’re friends!” He implored. 

“ _ Were _ ,” Crowley spat, and Aziraphale could feel the tears sliding down his cheeks. 

How could everything have gone so poorly? The world was ending, everything was going to fall apart, but none of that mattered when Crowley was so angry with him. 

The angel would give  _ anything _ to keep Crowley from looking at him like that - anything for one of his smiles, or a kind gesture. But he deserved this, he deserved this hatred. 

"Are you crying?" Crowley mocked, "Are you actually crying on me? Why are you crying? I'll  _ give _ you something to cry about. This is why I couldn't  _ love _ you. Dating an angel -  _ ugh. _ You weep at everything I could never deal with that."

Heartbreak barely described what was happening. This was agony, this was suffering.

Distantly, it sounded like someone was murmuring his name. As if his head were underwater, and a voice was shouting for him above the waves. But it was faint, and he ignored it. Aziraphale instead fell to his knees, crawling towards his demonic companion for some attempt at salvation. Crowley looked at him with contempt. 

“You are so… stupid…” 

Had Aziraphale been paying attention, he would have heard the muffled voice getting louder, and sharper. 

“You don’t deserve to live.” 

Like knives, Crowley’s words tore at him. The burning sensation intensified. Had the other angels been successful, Aziraphale knew the execution by hellfire would have felt like this. No. The execution would have been a kindness, because he would have died believing Crowley loved him. Not this. This was agony. 

“Aziraphale!” 

That was a new voice, but Aziraphale wasn’t paying attention. He was trying to get the attention of the demon in front of him, but Crowley didn’t care. 

“Please, please,” Aziraphale begged, “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” 

“ _ Aziraphale _ !” The new voice was louder now, and right behind him. By the time the angel had that thought, he was already being pulled back, and now standing over him was…

“Crowley?” He asked. How was there another Crowley? 

But this one looked… this one looked more  _ familiar _ . 

And that was when he started to notice the differences between the two. His was taller, with that lovely bright red hair. The other Crowley, who he had been pleading with, was shorter. More stout, without the distinctive hair color. This new-comer Crowley had that familiar swagger as he positioned himself over the angel. 

It was  _ his _ Crowley, Aziraphale realized. The other Crowley, the one saying those horrid things, was an imposter to his husband. 

“What did you say to him?” His Crowley hissed, looking every bit the Demonic Prince that Aziraphale had married.

The Imposter Crowley rolled his eyes, “doesn’t matter to you, he’s pathetic slut-”

With no warning, his husband reached back and punched the fake Crowley in the face. 

“Get the fuck away from my husband,” Crowley snarled, “You  _ asshole _ .”

The fake Crowley dropped instantly, seemingly unconscious. Aziraphale watched him fall and land in an ungraceful heap, puddled about all hither and yon. That, if anything, made Aziraphale realize that this was an imposter. His lover was smooth, stylish, and sleek. Even if his Crowley were to be punched - not that his Crowley would  _ ever _ be punched - his body would never  _ dare _ to do something as ungraceful as just collapse in a heap. 

That was when he felt hands gently pull him close, and turn him in the direction of his husband. 

“Angel,” And there was his lover, beautiful eyes shining with concern. Had he been trying to get his attention for a while now? “You’re having a nightmare sweetheart, let’s wake up now.” 

_ Wake up now… _

\------

Aziraphale gasped loudly, feeling himself wake up and be forcibly pulled from that horrible nightmare. The angel struggled to catch his breath, but he was being moved into a sitting position. A voice was trying to calm him down, because he couldn’t stop shaking. He could also feel himself sobbing, and tears couldn’t stop falling from his cheeks and he couldn’t get his breathing under control. 

“Angel, angel, breath, c’mon, deep, slow breaths,” Crowley encouraged, and Aziraphale felt himself cry even harder. What was wrong with him? How could he have dreamed such horrible things? 

“There’s nothing wrong with you!” Crowley urged, his tone was gentle, but firm. Somehow, Aziraphale had said part of that out loud. 

“There is!” He sobbed, “I deserved that. I… I’m horrible!” 

Crowley pulled him close, tucking Aziraphale’s head under his chin. Subconsciously, he started rocking them back and forth. 

“I’ll not have you say that about my husband,” He said, feeling his heart break. Crowley disliked it when Aziraphale started to criticize himself. Aziraphale could be his own harshest critic. He blamed the archangels, for always criticizing his work for thousands of years. When an angel gets told they’re doing a poor job for millenia, there comes a time where the angel believes that  _ they’re _ the one that’s no good. 

“But this is my punishment,” Aziraphale cried, “For all those horrible things I said to you! I used to say that we weren’t friends for thousands of years, that I didn’t like you, and you said it  _ once _ to me and I couldn’t handle it.” 

A handkerchief manifested itself in Crowley’s hand, and he tilted his husband’s face to wipe at his eyes. 

“Look at me,” Crowley commanded, making sure to keep his voice gentle. “Look at me, alright?” 

Aziraphale sniffled, but kept his face on his husband. 

“I don’t know who that sorry excuse for a demon was,” Crowley said, dabbing at Aziraphale’s cheeks with the handkerchief, “But that was  _ not  _ your best friend, lover, and husband.”

“His eyes,” Aziraphale hiccuped, getting his breathing under control, “They… those were your eyes… and I thought he was you.”

“Pretty sure my eyes are better looking,” Crowley said, and bit back a grin when he saw a ghost of a smile appear on Aziraphale’s face. “I’m  _ much _ more handsome than he was.”

“You are,” Aziraphale agreed, and Crowley gently tapped his nose in thanks. 

“You used to say that,” Crowley agreed, “That ‘we weren’t friends’ that we ‘didn’t know each other’, but you’re forgetting that was always to protect us. Protect our arrangement. We didn’t know who we could trust, not then. Or who had spies where. Or who had paid mortals off to watch us. I used to have to say the same things too, but I never wanted to. I know you didn't either.” 

Aziraphale closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. While Crowley didn’t want him looking away, he knew that he should be taking a small mercy in that his breathing seemed to be under control once again, and the tears had stopped. 

“I just feel so  _ horrible _ ,” Aziraphale whimpered, trying to take in another shuddering breath. “I’m so upset that I created that version of you!” 

Crowley had his doubts that Aziraphale would have created such a thing on his own. Not for lack of imagination - his angel was beautiful, intelligent, and  _ wonderfully _ imaginative. But when he punched that demon, something had felt oddly real about it. 

“It may be a side effect, you know, of Lilith’s Blessing,” One of his hands moved to gently press against Aziraphale’s stomach. The angel looked down, placing one of his hands on top of Crowley’s. 

“I do hope you’re right,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley kissed his temple. 

“C’mon angel,” He said, “Let’s lie down.” 

Crowley shifted, silently instructing some pillows to appear behind him. He leaned back, encouraging Aziraphale to lean against his chest. Aziraphale pressed his ear to his heart, slowing his breaths down to breath in time to his husband’s heartbeat. Crowley could feel him slowly relax in his arms. 

“I love you,” He said, threading his hand through Aziraphale’s curls, and stroked his back. “I have loved you for thousands of years. Everyday, I feel so grateful because I wake up with  _ you _ in my arms. You’ve been my best friend, my closest companion for six thousand years. You’re clever, kind, compassionate, and  _ so _ brave.  _ You _ figured out how to get us where we needed to be to save the world,  _ you’re _ the one that figured out we could switch. And  _ you’re _ the one that makes living in Hell worth it. I adore you.” 

“You’re wonderful,” Aziraphale whispered. A smile, a real one, broke across his face. That horrid anxious feeling began to dissipate, and he could feel the tension release from his body. He safe, in Crowley’s arms, where he belonged. “I love you so much, I’m so happy to have you.” 

Safe in their home, an angel and a demon fell asleep, secure in their home and each other. 

\-----

From an unknown void, a figure that answered to Anthony John Crowley slowly came to his senses. The last thing he could remember was seeing some poncy nancy-angel appear and start blathering about being married and having a baby. It even gestured to his own stomach. Disgusting. 

Then, like a weak fool, it started crying when he tried to explain how there was no way he would ever willingly sleep with such an unattractive angel, let alone whelp a child. That was when some flash bastard appeared from nowhere and punched him. It looked like they had both disappeared, leaving him in this void. Alone.

“Assholes!” He screamed, “Get back over here, and face me properly!” 

A woman’s voice answered him. 

“That’s not going to happen.”

He whirled around, to see, quite frankly, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Easily a ten out of ten. She was six feet tall, sleek, with eyes of steel that sent a jolt straight to his nethers. 

“Well, hello there,” He said, running a hand through his hair. It was brushed, right? “My name’s Anthony Johnny Crowley, I’m a bit lost, but I don’t mind being lost if it keeps me by you.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “I know who you are,” She said, slowly stalking towards him. Her arm reached behind her neck, and he jumped to see her pull out a broadsword out of nowhere. 

“I know  _ everything _ about you,” She said, “The world you do not care to protect, the women that you mistreat, the workers you allow to suffer abuse, the bar you mismanage. The angel that you have mistreated for thousands of years.” 

The sword was being pointed at him. He needed to get away, but realized, with growing horror, that his feet were planted to the floor. There was no way to move, no way to run away. 

“How - who - who are you?” Anthony John Crowley gasped. 

“My name is Lilith,” Lilith said, and her smirk terrified him more than Satan ever had, “I am the Queen of Hell. And you are going to atone  _ now.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I'm Shay Moonsilk on tumblr and Instagram.


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